


Chlonath Collab

by krzed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bickering, Blushing, Chlonath Week, Each chapter is its own independent story, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flirting, Graphic Descriptions of Burn Wounds, Kissing, One of these things is not like the other..., Romance, hand holding, not all tags apply to every chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krzed/pseuds/krzed
Summary: A Chlonath Week collab with the super talented @sugar--pie! She draws, I write!





	1. Flirting/Bickering (a little of both)

Even as glittery golden light flashed around her, Chloé tried to deny what was happening, but it was no use. This day had started so well it could only have gotten worse as time went by. A good night's sleep, a healthy breakfast, perfectly winged eyeliner, and getting partnered with Adrien for their chemistry project. Such wonders had quickly devolved into an Akuma attacking right as she was about to go out to lunch with Adrien, a fifteen minute jog to find a place secluded enough to transform, getting coated in sticky tar for the last half of the fight...

And now the tomato child has just seen her transformation fall away.

“...Ch-Chl- _Chloé!?”_

Some superhero she was. Chloé had sworn to Ladybug she'd keep her identity a secret, even though she positively _ached_ to tell someone. Sabrina at the very least. _Someone_ had to finish her homework while she fought Hawkmoth's latest insult to fashion. But as much as she wanted to advertise to the whole city that its favorite daughter was fighting alongside its favorite insectoid heroine, the last, _last,_ person she wanted discovering her identity was the Maritrash-worshipping wannabe artist before her.

Time for some damage control.

She stomped up to him and jabbed a single sharp finger into his chest. “You better not tell anyone or else!”

Nathanaël's look of shock held on for only a few seconds more until his face dropped. Then he smirked and asked, “Or else what?”

Her rage broke, her furrowed brow softening. “Whu? Wait...” _'Where is this coming from?'_ His smirk infuriated her, but he was right. She hadn't thought this far ahead. She hadn't expected him to call her bluff. But that only made her angrier. She hooked her fingers into his shirt and snarled, “What are you up to, tomato?”

Nathanaël shrugged and said, “Well, technically people would question why you're being extra mean to me, annnd--” Chloé growled, her anger continuing to rise “--to be honest, I suck at keeping secrets, but I can try extra hard if...”

“If what?”

“If you were to do things for me--” he snickered, “ _lemon head._ ”

Chloé weighed out her options. She really couldn't afford to let her identity get out. If people found out the kind and passionate Queen Bee is really the reformed class bully Chloé Bourgeois, no one would ever trust her again. She sighed and muttered, “Fine, I'll play your game...like what?”

“Like...” He looked down, then back up at her. “Letting go of my shirt...”

She held on her a second before releasing him and lightly shoving him away. She spun away and crossed her arms, fuming and mentally preparing herself for whatever asinine request he could imagine. “So, what do you want? Money? Power? Ladybug's autograph? A lock of Mari-nerd's hair for your obsessive love shrine?”

“Hey, I may have had a crush on Marinette, but I never went all Helga Pataki on her.”

“Helga Pa- _what_ -i?”

Nathanaël gaped at her. “Helga Pataki? Hey Arn...never mind. It's an American thing.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “I want you to...to go out with me.”

Okay, she was not prepared for that. She whipped her head about and stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You...want me to... _what?”_

“I just want you to go out with me. Got a problem?

Was he serious? Date him? Why? Chloé wracked her brain attempting to formulate some reason as to why he'd want to date her, but all she could come up with was the plot to one of those cheesy teen drama movies Adrien had forced her to watch years ago: popular girl dates less-than-popular guy so he can crawl his way from the primordial sludge that was mediocrity. It certainly couldn't be because he actually liked her. However, regardless of the reason, it wasn't like she had a choice. It was either lower herself to date someone decidedly less than Adrien or her identity ends up smeared across the Ladyblog.

She dropped her eyes and grumbled, “Fine. I'll...go out with you.”

“You...you will?”

She shrugged. “My hands are tied here. So yeah, you and I are now officially dating, _tomato head_.” She wasn't facing him, but if she had been, she would have witnessed the widest grin on his face. A grin that disappeared the moment she directed her attention back to him. “But if we are going to be dating, we need to do something about your clothes. Starting with ditching those _hideous_ white pants.” She sneered and gestured to the offending garment.

Nathanaël chuckled. “I thought ditching my pants wouldn't happen for a few more dates, but okay...”

He would have paid a hundred euros to see the blush that came across her face. Hell, he would have paid a hundred euros for Chloé to agree to date him. It bothered him that he had to resort to what was essentially blackmail to get her to go out with him, but he hoped in time, it would be worth it. In time, maybe she'd understand that he actually liked her.

And in time, maybe she would like him back...


	2. Honey and Tomato

“I still say they're going to taste awful.”

“You don't know that.”

Chloé and Nathanaël stood in the kitchen in his house, both wearing aprons and both covered in a thin layer of flour. After several hours, several trips to the grocery store, and several burnt batches, they finally had a satisfactory double dozen of cupcakes, which they were currently decorating with a honey lemon icing. Chloé glanced over at the blue flyer on the counter, dotted with flour and leeching up a small puddle of milk on one corner:

**1 st ANNUAL AKUMA VICTIM CHARITY EVENT**

It had been, surprisingly enough, her idea. Ever since she became Queen Bee two years ago, she'd been filled with this desire to make herself a better person, to help others, and she felt the best way to do that was by showing Hawkbutt just how much he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Just how much they weren't afraid.

She spoke with her father and he contacted several patrons and sponsors who could help finance such an event. Gabriel had begrudgingly agreed to host and judge an amateur fashion show, Tom and Sabine were holding a bake sale, Jagged Stone had agreed to perform, and M. D'Argencourt, along with Adrien, would put on a fencing exhibition. There were even rumors abounding of special guest appearances from the city's beloved heroes.

Chloé smiled down at the flyer. It felt...good. She was making a positive impact to make up for the years she had been an unholy terror. And it seemed at some point, karma had decided to reward her with an incredible boyfriend. Her eyes turned back to the cupcakes, and she scowled. An incredible boyfriend who should just stick to drawing because he obviously had _no sense when it came to the kitchen!_

“We mixed milk with _lemon juice,”_ Chloé cringed. “It's gonna taste all curdled and gross and...”

Nathanaël huffed and put down his piping bag. “This is my grandmother's recipe, Chloé.”

“And sour cream? Who puts sour cream in desserts?”

“Just...just give in a chance, okay? I guarantee these will be sweet as honey when we're done.”

Chloé glared up at her boyfriend. Then, she muttered, “These better be good.”

“Oh, they wi...” He paused and pointed at the end of Chloé's piping bag. “Uh, you got...um...”

She turned her head down and there Pollen sat on a cupcake with her mouth open and icing pouring in. When Chloé pulled the bag away, the kwami closed her mouth, smiled around her bulging cheeks, and lifted off of the cupcake.

“Ooh, Pollen!” Chloé yelled, jumping in the air to swipe at her partner. “These are for the bake sale! Stop eating all the icing!”

Pollen finally swallowed and said, “You should listen to the tomato. They're so yummy!”

“See, Chloé?” Nathanaël said, a smug look on his face. “Two votes for delicious.” He lifted one of the cooled cupcakes from the tray and held it out to her. She set down her piping bag and gingerly accepted the treat. Nathanaël snatched one up for himself and tapped the edge of it against Chloé's. “Santé.”

While Nathanaël dug into his cupcake, Chloé only stared down at hers, a smile pricking at her face. A year ago, she never would have guessed she'd be baking with her boyfriend, or that he would have no problems with her being a superhero. Of that she'd have a boyfriend at all. But here she was, baking, smiling, and (in theory) sampling one of the best cupcakes she would ever eat. She lifted the cupcake to her mouth, parted her lips...

...and dropped it when the ground rumbled beneath her.

Chloé's phone chirped the Kim Possible Kimmunicator tone, the tone she had assigned the Ladyblog's Akuma Alert System. She stared down at the cupcake, icing smeared across the kitchen tile, and slowly clenched her fists, her anger steadily rising. “I swear...one of these days...my striped boot is going _right_ _up Hawkmoth's ass!”_

“Guess you gotta get going...” Nathanaël lamented.

She nodded, her jaw still clenched tight, and called on her transformation. When the golden sparks around her dispersed, she lifted off the ground and made to fly towards the open balcony doors.

“Chl...Bee,” Nathanaël corrected himself.

Queen Bee turned back to him, and saw he was holding out a cupcake with a smile on his face. She returned his smile, flew back towards him, and wrapped her gloved fingers around his. But rather than take the cupcake, she floated downwards, rested her opposite palm against his check, and pressed her lips against his. Their lips parted, and her tongue glided softly, gently against his. Just as he started to reciprocate the gesture, she pulled away and licked her lips.

“Wow, you were right,” she giggled. “Sweet as honey.”

He grinned up at her. “Just like you.”

She spun away from him before he could see the blush spreading across her cheeks. “S-see you at the charity, tomato.”


	3. Art

_Touch up this...reduce red-eye here...more saturated color..._

Nathanaël Kurtzberg hated his job. Yes, it paid incredibly well, he received experience to pad out his resume, and he got to see several of his friends from lycée on a daily basis, but it wasn't truly what he wanted to do with his life. He was an artist, not a designer. He wanted to paint sprawling landscapes across canvases and sketch out comics, not set text on advertising posters and photoshop knee wrinkles off of swimsuit models.

He kept telling himself he was going to quit, but one does not simply quit Gabriel. He worked hard for an internship, did everything in his power to convince _M._ Agreste he was worth hiring full-time, and called in every favor he could with Marinette and Adrien to get the job. He wasn't about to throw this away even though every moment he spent at his desk dragging a stylus across a tablet left him feeling empty.

“Kurtzberg,” he heard from just over his shoulder.

Nathanaël disguised a groan as a yawn and turned to face his supervisor. “Yeah, Marcel?”

“That's _M._ Dubois to you, kid.” The paunchy, red-faced troll with the world's worst comb-over held out a flash drive. “Set everything else aside; this takes priority. Specifics are in the document, you have two hours.”

“You know I don't do rush jobs.”

“Well you do now.” Rather than wait for Nathanaël to take the drive, he tossed it onto his desk. “Get to it.”

The artist-turned-graphic-designer clutched the drive and tightened his grip around it. That was yet another reason he wanted to quit: Marcel Dubois was the most colossal pain in the ass he had ever met, and that included his encounters with Chloé back in collége, especially since the girl had _seemed_ to turn over a new leaf at some point. Nathanaël shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do today was think about Chloé _or_ Marcel.

He plugged the drive into his tablet and navigated to the files he needed. He skimmed over the document (basic typesetting, color touch-up, background effects, rudimentary tasks he could accomplish in his sleep) and opened up the image file.

Staring back at him was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She wore what looked like a white, high-collared pantsuit (He didn't know fashion, so he was probably wrong) with a white coat draped over her shoulders. A wide-brimmed white hat sat crooked on her head, and the entire ensemble was coated in random splotches of multi-colored paint, as was the model herself. Her long blonde hair was splayed out behind her, blown to the side by an unseen wind, and her electric blue eyes gazed out at him, playful, sexy, alluring. One hand was raised to her mouth, her index finger playing with her lips, curled upwards in a slight smirk. Every part of her exuded confidence, charisma, and sensuality.

Who was she? Who was this girl? He scanned through the document once more, trying to glean some hint as to who she was, but found nothing. There were no other files on the drive, so Nathanaël had almost resigned himself to never knowing until his eyes caught the name of the image file.

cbourgeois13.jpeg

C...Bourgeois... _Chloé?_ This was...Chloé Bourgeois? But...since when did she work for Gabriel? Since when did she _work?_ Since when would she be okay with getting dirty for _any_ reason? And since when...since when did Nathanaël find her so incredibly beautiful?

“Yo, Kurtzberg! Stop gawking at your girlfriend and get to work!”

Nathanaël nearly jumped out of his chair when Marcel raised his voice just behind him and spun around to face his supervisor. “She's no-she's not my...she's not...” He turned back down to the picture, his face reddening. “Not my girlfriend...”

“Then why did she ask for you by name?”

He straightened in his chair and turned to face Marcel again. “She what?”

“Yeah,” Marcel shrugged, “her exact words were 'give this to Nathanaël Kurtzberg. I won't trust anyone but that'--and again, her words here--' _tomato-head_ with my image'.”

Marcel finally walked away and Nathanaël turned back down to the picture of...Chloé. She trusted him? Why him? This was Chloé Bourgeois. The girl who bullied him throughout collége, who hated him, even though she toned it down and eventually apologized after a time. He hadn't thought about her in years, and when he did, they weren't exactly pleasant memories. So why did she feel like she could trust him out of nowhere?

...and why was he still blushing?


	4. Rescue/(de)Transformation

Like many attack victims before him, Nathanaël is simply in the wrong place at the right (or perhaps wrong) time. Walking home late, stopping for just a few moments to watch a rare meteor shower. Unaware that close by, there is a young girl, an aspiring astronomer, whose parents have taken away her telescope as punishment for her poor grades. She is also kept indoors during the meteor shower, though she begs and pleads to deaf ears.

A purple butterfly is all it takes to turn her smoldering bitterness into a roaring flame that she will use to light up the night sky.

Half the arrondissement is in flames before Ladybug, Chat Noir, Vixen, and Queen Bee arrive. Ladybug and Vixen work to contain Meteora while Chat and Bee evacuate civilians. Somehow, they miss Nathanaël. Somehow, he catches the Akuma's attention and she flings a fireball right at him. Somehow, he manages to hear a voice crying his name over the crackle and pop of the flames.

Somehow, he survives.

First all he sees is fire. Then a blur of yellow and black. Then, just black.

He should be dead. Even barely conscious he knows that. He should be a pile of ashes, burnt to a crisp by Meteora's assault. But he's alive, though there is a peculiar weight on his chest. He slowly pries his eyes open and sees an ocean of golden hair. A head rests to the left of his own, a head with a barely visible black and yellow mask upon its face.

“Queen...Bee?” he chokes, his throat and lungs dry.

She stirs but doesn't speak. Nathanaël tries to sit up, plants his hands on her sides to help lift her, but she sucks in a sharp breath and groans low in her throat, obviously in pain. Despite her nonverbal protests, he manages to push himself upright without disturbing her too much, easing her into his lap. Now, sitting above her, he can see her back: exposed skin covered in ripples, bubbles, discoloration indicative of second, perhaps even third, degree burns. The back of her suit, likely disintegrated in the blast, clings to the edge of the wound, and Nathanaël can see it slowly attempting to stitch itself together over the damaged flesh.

“Queen...”

“Nath...anaël...you...okay...?” she struggles to say.

“Wha?” She takes a hit that likely would have killed him, now rests in his lap with a third degree burn coating most of her back, and she wants to know if _he's_ okay? “Forget me, Bee! What about you?”

“I'm...” she coughs and winces when she tenses the muscles in her back. “I'm...fine...so long as...you're...o...”

“Why did you do that?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his. Her sky blue eyes glow with fear and pain, though he can tell she's trying, and failing, to stay strong. She gently rests a palm against his cheek and whispers, “I wouldn't be able to...to live with myself if you got hurt...”

Nathanaël shakes his head. “But why? Why me?”

For a second, Queen Bee doesn't move. Then, her hand slowly glides across his cheek to the back of his head and pulls his lips down into hers. He can feel her tremble, he can feel every hitch of her body as she attempts, and fails, to push down the immense pain. But he can also feel a warmth, not from the fire but within his heart.

She pulls away from him. “I love you,” comes her answer. “I...wish I could...could have...told you under better circum...circumstances, but...” A rapid sequence of beeps sound off from just behind her head.

“Bee, your about to--”

“Please don't hate me...” Her hand falls away and she slumps into his arms. “...when you see...who I really am...”

Golden sparks flash around her leaving behind the huddled form of Chloé Bourgeois in Nathanaël's lap.

He doesn't move for a full minute. Doesn't speak. All he does is stare down at the blonde girl in his arms, the back of her coat and shirt in scorched tatters, just like her suit was. The fire around him no longer matters. The Akuma no longer matters. Nothing matters save for the feel of Queen Bee's ( _Chloe's,_ he reminds himself) lips on his, her confession, and the fact that somehow, for some reason, he was shedding tears for her. He was crying.

“Chloé,” he sobs, because he doesn't see the bully anymore. He doesn't see the rich priss, the stuck-up self-centered princess. He sees a hero. He sees a girl who has given of herself time and again for nearly a year now. He sees a girl who threw herself in harm's way just to save him.

He sees a girl he may actually be falling for...

A scream tears its way up his throat, filled with pain he never knew he'd feel, with love he never knew he'd feel. _“Chloé!”_


	5. Holding Hands (and failing)

Chloé Bourgeois had never been in love before Nathanaël. Adrien totally didn't count, she realized that now. He was more a childhood friend she didn't want to share with his _new_ friends. Jealousy made her cling to him. But she knew in her heart that she genuinely loved Nathanaël.

So, if she could throw herself at someone she loved only as a friend, hug him, kiss him on the cheeks, then why was PDA with the guy she _did_ love still so hard for her?

Part of her mind rationalized that she was a high-society girl who was trying to spare Nathanaël from being hounded by the paparazzi. The more realistic part of her knew that she was inexperienced. She didn't know what love was really like. She didn't know how to show healthy affection, and she was terrified that if she ever treated Nathanaël like she did Adrien, she would only run him off, scare him away. She didn't want that, _never_ wanted that, so whenever they were in public together, on a date (that totally wasn't a date because they weren't calling it a date but it was totally a date), she kept her distance, much to his dismay.

He wanted her to be affectionate. He wanted to hold her and hug her and maybe someday kiss her, but respected her space though he didn't truly understand why until he felt her awkwardly grab one of his fingers as they were walking to his home after school. The moment his head turned down to their hands, she released him, her arm around her bag, acting like she'd done nothing. He turned his gaze back to the sidewalk just in time for her fingers to slither around his wrist. He didn't look immediately, but she pulled away just the same. At her third attempt, he stopped walking and sighed.

“You're not used to this, are you?”

Chloé flinched at his words, turned away and blushed. “I...I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Chloé, you never seem to want to be affectionate with me, and it almost seems like you don't know how.”

She hung her head at his accusation. “I...I know how to be affectionate, just...not the right kind of affectionate.”

He raised a brow. “The right kind?”

She hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms. “I refuse to treat you the way I treated Adrien. That was just staking a claim, selfishly pushing people away from him so I could have him all to myself. I never actually loved him. Not...not like I l-love...you...” A blush rose to her checks as she mumbled those last words.

Nathanaël smiled and slipped his hand under her arms, gently grasping one of her hands and pulling it free. He laced his fingers between hers and let their arms drop to their sides. The entire time, Chloé's watched what he was doing, her eyes never leaving their joined hands. When he had finished, she looked up at him and quirked her brow.

“See?” he said. “Not that hard. Just don't be as pushy or clingy as you were with Adrien and everything will be fine.”

She slowly nodded, speaking not a word. They kept walking, their fingers locked together and gently swaying at their sides, and she had to admit: this felt...nice. He wasn't pushing her away like Adrien used to. He wanted her there. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted her affection.

_'I'll treat you right, Nath. I swear, you'll never be just a piece of meat or a status symbol to me. You're a person, and as much of a dork as you are, I love you with all my heart.'_

She heard a chuckle and turned to face Nathanaël. He smiled and said, “That's good to know. I love you, too.”

Chloé choked on her own spit. “I...did...did I say that out loud?”


	6. I Hate That I Love You (and I hate that you hate me)

“Hey, Pollen?”

The kwami looked up from her pretzels and towards the source of the soft voice: her chosen, who sat on her bed, her knees pulled into her chest. “Yah, Chloé?”

“How...how much does my Miraculous change me?” Her eyes never left the comb, which she held in her hands, her thumbs rubbing across it.

Pollen tilted her head and responded, “Well, mask, bodysuit, superpowers...”

“No, I mean more than that.” Pollen looked as though she couldn't quite follow, so Chloé explained, “I mean, does it change my personality? Does it change who I am, not just what I look like?”

“All the changes are cosmetic, though anonymity would change how you present yourself, or how people perceive you.”

“So that's what it is...”

Pollen flitted up off the table to move closer to her chosen, possibly comfort her, but Chloé's mind was elsewhere.

The first time she'd saved him from an Akuma.

_'Wow, you're, uh, you're Qu-Queen Bee...' Nathanaël stuttered._

_'I am. Now, I know I'm pretty, but quit gawking and get to safety!'_

_Nathanaël flinched away from another explosion and ran down an alleyway in the opposite direction. Queen Bee smirked to herself and muttered, 'He's cute when he's flustered.' She paused. 'Cute? Where did that come from?'_

Seeing him in class the next day.

_'Why are you drawing Queen Bee so much?' Chloé asked. 'Ladybug is obviously better.'_

_'Ladybug didn't save me yesterday,' Nathanaël huffed, not looking up from his sketchbook._

_'...I suppose you have a point.'_

_Rose glanced over Nathanaël's shoudler and said, 'Wow, Nath! She's so pretty! Is she this pretty up close?'_

_Chloé could just see the smirk on his face through his hair. 'She's not pretty, Rose.' Chloé was seconds away from demanding an explanation when he said, 'She's...beautiful.'_

Visiting him a few nights later.

_'So,' Queen Bee drawled._ Nathanaël _jumped from his desk next to the open window and clutched at his heart. He only calmed down when he saw the yellow and black heroine through the window. 'Rumor has it you've been drawing me a lot lately.'_

_'Uh, w-well,' he stammered, 'maybe I've...I've been drawing_ both _new heroes lately. I mean, Vixen joined the team around the same time you did...'_

_'But you don't think Vixen is beautiful, do you?'_

_His blush was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. She only paused for a second to ponder why she thought he was adorable before she asked, 'May I see them?'_

At this point, the memories came in faster flashes, each memory pushing another tear down her face.

_'Hey, Queen Bee!'_

_'...what do you want, Chloé?'_

_'I want to show you this new shading technique I learned!'_

_'Do I have to be_ her _partner for the physics project?'_

_'I...like it when you visit me like this.'_

_'Buzz off, Chloé.'_

_'I was having a bad day...but...I feel better now that you're here.'_

_'Oh, jeez, could this day get any worse? Just leave me alone!'_

_'I...love you, Bee.'_

_'...I hate you.'_

“It's not fair,” Chloé sobbed.

Pollen rested a paw against her partner's cheek. “Chloe?”

“We're the same p-person.” She buried her face further into her knees. “We're the same person! But somehow, he loves one side of me and hates the other! And I've been trying!” She tightened her grip around the comb, her knuckles white. “I've been trying to change. I've been trying to be a better person, but he doesn't want to see that. He doesn't want to give me a chance. So why?”

She thought back to last night, when Nathanaël had confessed his feelings for her. She'd been perched on his balcony railing and nearly fallen off when the words slipped past his lips. She recalled the tenderness in his eyes, the warmth, the softness.

Then, earlier today. She couldn't even remember what she'd done or what she'd said. But Nathanaël had given her the most disgusted, cold, disapproving look she'd ever received, even before she became a superhero.

“Why can't he look at me...the way he looks at her?”


	7. Personality Swap AU

“Well, hey there, Lemon Drop.”

Chloé glanced up from her sketchbook, completely unimpressed by the preening peacock at her window. “What do you want, Poppicock?”

Plume Royale flinched and landed on the girl's window sill. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

She dropped her head back down, her pencil gliding across the paper once more, and muttered, “Well I hate it when you call me Lemon Drop.”

“Would you prefer a different name?”

“Yeah, how about 'Chloé', or 'Mademoiselle Kurtzberg'” she snapped, “or is using my actual friggin name too much to ask?”

Plume ignored her protests and leaned over her hunched form. “I thought of 'Lemon Head' but that's still to much like 'Lemon Drop'. Thoughts?” She didn't react. “Yeah, I didn't like it either. How about...Lemongrass. No, that sounds stupid.” He smirked. “Ooh, how about 'Honey'?”

Chloé scoffed. “That sounds more like a pet name. 'Honey! I'm home!'” She snickered at her own joke and went back to drawing, a sketch that Plume noticed bore a striking resemblance to himself.

He shook his head. “I was thinking less 'Honey I'm home' and more--” he slipped his fingers beneath Chloé's chin and lifted her gaze to match his “--Honey Bee.”

The lead tip of the pencil snapped. Chloé's eyes widened and her free hand went to the back of her head before she could stop it. Plume already knew what she was reaching for: her Miraculous. Her mouth hung open and she lightly shook her head, refusing to believe what Plume had just acknowledged: he knew her identity.

“...how?” was all she could whisper.

“I saw you transform a couple nights ago. Right before we fought Checkmate. I'll admit: I was shocked at first. I mean, who'd have thought?” He slipped off of her window sill and into her room, falling onto her bed and staring at her whirling ceiling fan with his hands folded behind his head. “My shy, introverted artiste is actually my feisty little Bee.” He turned and opened his mouth again, but shut it when he saw Chloé still hunched over her desk, her arms crossed over her middle.

Plume turned his head away, shame crossing his features. “Look, I...I'm sorry. All joking aside, I didn't mean to look. I know Beetle wants us to keep our identities a secret, but it was an accident, I swear.” He sat up and reached out to comfort her, hesitated for but a second, then rested his hand on her shoulder. “I really am sorry, Chloé.”

She seemed to relax when Plume used her real name. She turned in her chair, but not enough to look the hero in the eye. “I always thought that if one of you learned my identity, that you'd take my Miraculous away. You'd think I didn't have what it took to be a superhero. I have, like, no confidence, I'm shy and introverted, like you said, and I...I...” She brought one of her long sweater sleeves up to wipe the trail of tears from her cheek.

“Hey, hey, my little Chloé Bee,” Plume soothed, reaching out to turn her head all the way towards him. “You may be shy, but you have mounds of confidence, and you definitely belong on our team.” She tried to pull away from him, but he refused to let go. “Look, Beetle is intense, Chatte Noire is cunning, Lady Tortue is a strategic genius, and Renard...” Plume paused, then a look of disgust descended on him. “No, actually, I don't have anything positive to say about that stupid, beatboxing fox. But, you, Honey Bee, you are _fierce_. I've never seen anyone fight so passionately to protect her friends.” He brushed her hair from her face, and he was struck not only by the thought that he'd never seen both of her eyes before, but by the thought he couldn't look away. “You..you're...” he stammered. He cleared his throat and said, “You're braver than you think, Chlo.”

She licked her lips and scanned Plume's face, her eyes practically glowing in the limited light. “I'm brave?” Plume nodded, a blush creeping up on his face that he couldn't fight. “Brave...brave enough to do this?” She reach up to caress his cheek, fingertips dancing on the seam between his face and his mask, then leaned forward and kissed him.

Plume would have recoiled, would have pushed her away if he hadn't wanted to do this himself. There was just something about her, something about her attitude, her refusal to kowtow to his ego, to bend to his will and his whims. While he was selfish, she was selfless, so she could ground him, she could tame him. And he wanted her to. He felt like she could be the one to make him a better person. He wanted to deserve the love she had given him. He wanted to deserve to be with someone like her.

But first, the kiss.

He eased his hands over her shoulders to her back and pulled her closer. She tasted, appropriately enough, of lemon and honey, her favorite flavor of tea. She smelled of vanilla and the earthy, wooden aroma of pencil shavings. It maddened him that his gloves came between his hands and her face, because he ached to touch her, to be closer to her, so he had to make himself content with the smooth and gentle softness of her lips. He loved it. He loved every sensation he received from her. He loved...her.

Yes, that was it. Plume Royale loved Honey Bee. And Nathanaël Bourgeois loved Chloé Kurtzberg.

_'Ooh! Look, Sabrina! It's her as a superhero! And look who she's saving! It's Adrien! Hey, Nerdrien! Looks like someone's got a crush on you!'_

...but could Chloé ever love Nathanaël, after what he had done to her?


End file.
